(Ignorance is) Bliss
by doctorvodka
Summary: When the Dursley's plan a trip to Spain, they can't find someone to watch Harry. Instead of taking him with, however, they toss him at the nearest orphanage. At seven, Harry was abandoned by the only family he ever knew. He finds no friends or no new family there. In 1991, Minerva McGonagall arrives to deliver a letter to one Harry James Potter.
1. Chapter 1

**(Ignorance is) Bliss**

.

Minerva McGonagall dressed in her most muggle-acceptable clothing when she went to invite muggleborns or talk to their families. It happened to be a dress fit more to the late 19th century than the late 20th, but it worked just fine. People marked her off as an eccentric, especially in London. Arriving out of a Ministry-provided automobile, because muggle seemed to travel around in them very often these days and it helped plenty to discuss things with muggles if you came out of one. Luckily, it had a self-driving charm, because she had no idea how to handle such a machine. She was a Transfiguration professor, not a muggle expert!

Stepping out of the car, she realized she had a few eyes trained onto her. She ignored them, staring at the orphanage. In her right hand, she held a letter. Over the letter, where it was stamped shut with dark red wax shaped into the Hogwarts emblem, were green letters stating very simply;

 _Mr. H. Potter  
Room 27  
_ _London Orphanage for Boys_ _  
_ _London, England_

A few young boys were playing out in the yard, but stopped as she stepped past the open, wrought iron gate. Her skirts dusted just a nail's width over the cement path, where chalk colored in vulgar drawings or crude names were written. She stepped on a pink piece of chalk. Her shoes, charmed to help her keep steady, crushed it into fine dust. It's Cleanly Charm banished what stuck to the bottom. She left no trail. The children stared. Minerva scanned them out of the corner of her eyes, wondering if any of them was the boy she was searching for.

She came to the front door and knocked three times.

About half-minute passed before it opened, revealing a young woman with grey hair and bagged eyes. "Who're you?" She questioned.

"Professor Minerva McGonagall, from Hogwarts School for Young Boys and Girls." Minerva introduced herself. "I am here to invite Harry James Potter to my school."

"Bit fancy for him, don't you think?" The woman said.

"His parents attended the school. They established an account to ensure his tuition to be paid full upon the time he was ready to enter." Minerva stated. "May I see him?"

"'course." The woman nodded, pulling the door open wide. "Name's Daisy Bates. I run this place. The other two here are with the babies, two of them, both have chicken pox. Trying to keep a pandemic from occurring. Ever have to deal with that there at your school?"

"Certainly." Minerva said. She recalled the Dragon Pox burst when she, herself, attended Hogwarts as a third year Gryffindor. "You said the school might be too fancy for Harry. Why do you say that?"

"Boy's a bit daft." Daisy Bates said without shame or hesitance. "Rarely ever talks, barely eats. He does fine in school so we never do much, though. He mostly stays in his room."

"When did he arrive here?" Minerva asked.

"A few years ago, he was seven." Bates said. "Sad, how he came. Aunt and Uncle just dumped him off here. They were all in really nice clothes, in a real nice car, but Harry was in rags. So quiet, too. Made my heart break. Still does. I'm guessing they just didn't want to put up with a boy that hurt their image. Happened before. The really disabled ones are sent to a special place, though. They need the extra care, and time, something we don't really have here. But Harry's smart enough to get along, so he stays. Wish he could get the help he needs, though. Therapy or some sort."

Perhaps, Minerva thought, the Killing Curse did have its effects? Her heart ached. The past decade, the wizarding world have celebrated Harry Potter and has anxiously awaited his return. This whole time, he was suffering. A family who seemed to have mistreated him, then abandoned him. Who knows what he's been told of his parents? For all he knows, he could see himself as unlovable boy with no place in the world. Even if he was _daft_ , he was still a special boy. He was the reason the wizarding world was free from the Dark Lord's tyranny today.

Daisy Bates led Minerva up a short stairway into a cramped hallway. She came to a room, where brass letters were screwed on. "Room 27, Harry Potter." She said. "You need me to stay?" She asked.

Minerva shook her head.

"Alright." Daisy Bates nodded. She knocked on the door only one door before it swung open.

Minerva looked down.

A tiny, scrawny boy who looked more like a tall toddler than a soon-to-be eleven year old boy. Wide, brilliantly green eyes shone behind cheap, black-rim glasses. He had James Potter's high cheekbones, partially hidden by the baby-fat that clung to him, and the man's messy black hair. He had Lily Evans' (Lily Potter's) button nose and eyes, though his were a tad more clearly green, and he had her skin; flawless and fair. He had James Potter's full, pout-shaped lips and long eyelashes, too. He looked like an angel, or an elf out of muggle tales. Minerva felt her heart constrict. Harry looked so much like James, but what stuck out the most were his eyes, _Lily's_ eyes.

"Harry, this is Minerva McGonagall. She's from a school your parents went to." Bates said.

Harry stared.

"I'll take it from here, thank you." Minerva told the muggle woman.

She nodded and left.

"May I come in?" Minerva asked the boy.

Harry stepped back, retreating to his bed. He sat down quietly. His movement couldn't be described as graceful or flawless, but it was quiet and careful, like the tiniest noise would open up a hole that'd swallow him.

Minerva closed the door behind her. She pulled a chair out from a small desk and sat down. "My name is Minerva McGonagall. I teach Transfiguration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She stated.

"Magic." Harry spoke.

"Yes, magic. Your parents were magical. Your mother was a witch and your father a wizard, brilliant apart and amazing together." Minerva stated. "Do you remember anything about them? Did your Aunt and Uncle tell you anything of them?"

"Petunia and Vernon told me my father was a drunk and my mother was a slag. They got into an accident when I was a baby and they died. That's how I got my scar." Harry stated.

Minerva bristled. "Your father was not a drunk! And your mother was not a slag!" She barely restrained herself from hissing. "They were killing by the Dark Lord. He tried to kill you too, that's how you got your scar."

"How do I know you're not lying? Miss Daisy's always talking about sending me to some hospital." Harry said.

Minerva pulled out her hand. She pointed at his pillow and flicked her wand. The pillow morphed into something larger, newer-looking, and plumper. It turned dark red with yellow threaded into the corners.

Harry stared, wide-eyed. "Can I do things like that?" He asked.

"One day, if you work hard, you will." Minerva promised. "What I did is called Transfiguration."

"You teach it?" Harry asked.

She nodded.

"I can do things, too." Harry said. "Not like that, but things."

"What sort of things?" Minerva asked.

"Once, when I was really mad, I made someone's bed light on fire. And I can talk to snakes! No one's ever believed me though so I stopped, but I can." Harry said. "I made a teacher's wig turn blue before, too, and I teleported once!"

"You can talk to snakes?" Minerva was shocked. Parseltongue? Only descendants of Slytherin could speak Parseltongue, all Parselmouths could trace their lineage back to the man. As far as she knew, however, James and Lily had no connection to Salazar Slytherin.

"They talk back to me, too." Harry said. "I met one named Marvolo but he wasn't around very long. He had to leave, but he promised to come back for me one day."

Minerva felt unsteady. "Harry, you know something." She said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Talking to snakes, it's called Parseltongue. It isn't well accepted in our world, the magical world." Minerva said. "The most notorious wizards have had the ability. Including the man who killed your parents, the Dark Lord."

Harry frowned. "Oh." He said. "What's the man's name?"

Minerva hesitated. "We call him You-Know-Who." She said. "No one likes saying his name."

"Oh." Harry repeated. "And I can't talk to snakes anymore?"

"You can, but you should be careful." Minerva said. "People could take wrong to it."

Harry nodded.

"In our world, you're famous." Minerva added. "Because of that night. After he killed your parents, he tried to kill you too, but his curse rebounded. It's unheard of before you, and no one has since. Your scar is from that curse."

Harry rubbed the lightning bolt-shaped mark on his forehead.

Minerva held out his letter. "This is your acceptance letter. It has all your supplies and your ticket to the Hogwarts Express." She said.

"I don't have any money." Harry said.

"Your parents left you plenty, at the wizarding bank, Gringotts." Minerva said. "I could take you there, today, to get all your supplies. You'll get them at Diagon Alley, an all-wizarding market center."

Harry fingered the letter and nodded.

Minerva smiled. "Come with me. We can go now. It's still early in the day." She said, standing.

* * *

 **NOTES: I don't know if I'll continue this or not. I _might_ if it receives some pleasant attention, but idk. **


	2. Chapter 2

**(Ignorance is) Bliss**

.2.

"Draco Malfoy." The blond boy held out his hand. Harry glanced at Professor McGonagall in the corner of his eye and reached forward, grasping the hand and shaking it the way he's seen couples looking for orphans shake Miss Daisy's hand.

"Harry Potter." He said, forcing his voice out. He wasn't a very big fan of talking, but he thought he should. People weren't treating him the way the people at the orphanage and at school treated him. It was nicer, it made him feel like they deserved more effort out of him than the others- the muggles, Professor McGonagall had told him they were called, the non-magical folk he grew up with who simply didn't understand how _special_ he was. Professor McGonagall was very nice.

"Harry Potter? _The_ Harry Potter?" Draco Malfoy/Blond Boy gasped, eyes widening and looking at him that could best be described with the adjective 'shock'.

He looked down at himself then back up. "Yes, I think so." He said.

"As in, the Boy-Who-Lived?" He was asked.

"Professor McGonagall told me that's what I'm called here." Harry said.

"They did say you were raised by muggles." Draco Malfoy stated. He said 'muggles' like it gave him a bad taste in his mouth, and his nose wrinkled up and his eyes squinted a bit in the corners. "What do you know about our world?"

"Nothing." Harry said. "But I like it so far."

"There's Quidditch, which is very important, and Hogwarts." Draco Malfoy said. "The most important thing is blood status, I'll tell you! Some people don't think so, but anyone who is anyone knows it is. See, we're wizards from wizard families. Wizards from non-wizard families are called mudbloods."

"I have non-wizard family." Harry said.

"But you're a Potter, so the good blood takes out the bad blood just enough. You're a halfblood." Draco said. "A halfblood from a very long lineage! The Potter's are as old as the Malfoy's!"

"Are family names important?" Harry asked.

Draco bobbed his head.

Harry brought a finger up to his bottom lip, rubbing slightly and wondering. "Are there any books on this?" He asked. Miss Daisy always said knowledge came from books, so did nearly every one of his teachers in one way or another.

"Definitely!" Draco Malfoy said. "You'll be able to find them at a bookshop, any bookshop of note.."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"Alright lad, you're done." The tailor said, smiling, her eyes bright and amazed. She helped him pull off his robes and folded them in her arms.

Harry thanked her and stepped down from the stool.

"See you on the train." Draco Malfoy said.

"Okay." Harry walked over to Professor McGonagall as the tailor was wrapped his robes with light blue paper.

When they were a few steps out of the shop's door, Professor McGonagall told him, "Do not listen to that boy, Harry. Blood isn't as important as people say." He nodded obediently, but he wondered who should be more trustworthy.

"Now, we only have a few things left." She said. "Books, your wand, and a familiar."

"Familiar? Like, a pet?" Harry asked.

"Like a pet. Hogwarts permits students to bring one familiar." Professor McGonagall said. "Owls, cats, and toads are most common, but we also permit rats and animals with a certifications of domestication though no larger than the common dog."

"So, I could get a puppy? Or a snake?" Harry asked. Though he supposed if talking to snakes wasn't acceptable, neither would be owning one.

"A small one." McGonagall said. "I would suggest an owl for practicability."

"What about a kitty?" Harry asked. "A long-haired, fluffy kitty!" He smiled at the thought. He wondered if cats were cuddly.

"Cats are acceptable." Professor McGonagall said. "You could borrow one of the Hogwarts owl if needed."

Harry smiled. There were rules against animals at the orphanage, but he bet he could hide a cat.

"We'll get your familiar last. Would you like to get your wand now?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes please." Harry said.

Professor McGonagall led him to a narrow, shabby-looking shop. "Ollivander's," She gestured to the sign of peeling gold letters that read 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.'. In the window, there was an old purple pillow where a wand lay on top. "Most British witches and wizards get their wands from him."

Harry nodded.

They entered the store and a bell tinkled as the door opened and closed. Harry looked to the wall of thousands of narrow boxes, piled strangely organized upon each other. He recalled a game some of the orphans would play, where you had to pick out random wooden blocks out of a small tower and place it on top without causing the tower to collapse. _(He was never allowed to play with them)_

An old man suddenly appeared and Harry blinked. "Good afternoon," The man greeted. "I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter."

"Hello Mr. Ollivander." Professor McGonagall said, holding out her hand. The man shook it.

"Fir, dragon heartstring, nine and half inches, a stiff wand." Ollivander said, smiling. "Working well for you, I suspect?"

"Of course." She said. "Mr. Potter is here for his wand."

Ollivander. "Yes, yes!" He clapped his hands. He pulled out a long tape measure. Harry tilted his head to the right. "Tell me, your wand hand, Mr. Potter?"

Harry blinked. "Um, I'm right handed." He said.

"Hold out your arm, that's it." Ollivander said. Harry obeyed. He began to take every measurement possible. Harry wondered if a wand length had to be tailored like clothes, or this was just a gimmick. "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons."

"Why not anything else?" Harry asked. Ollivander stepped away from him, but the tape measure continued to take measurements.

"We Ollivanders have decided those are the three best cores to be used as wand cores." The man stated, going through the narrow boxes.

"Could other things be used as cores?" Harry asked.

"Just about everything." Ollivander said. "That will do!" The tape measure crumpled to a heap on the floor. Harry stared down at it. "Here you go, Mr. Potter, try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wand."

Harry grasped the wand and barely even waved it in a circle before Ollivander snatched it out of his hand. "No, no, here try this one." He gave him another wand. "Maple and phoenix feather, seven inches. Quite whippy."

He barely even raised the wand before it was taken.

Time passed by slowly, wand after wand was given to him before being taken away. Ollivander got happier and happier as he went through more and more wands, flipping through the narrow boxes and pulling wands out at random.

"Tricky customer, eh?" Ollivander grinned. "Not to worry! We'll find you your perfect match, just you watch. I wonder, why, yes..." He seemed to have a conversation without him, mumbling words and short sentences, before reaching up and pulling out a dusty box. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

The moment Harry took the wand, he felt warmth bloom around his fingers. He moved the wand in a quick circle and a stream of sparks came shooting out of the tip. Blue, yellow, purple, red, and green blended together into a sword of little lights that buzzed out after flying for a foot into the air.

Professor McGonagall stared, wide-eyed.

Mr. Ollivander cried and clapped. "Oh, bravo! Yes, very good...Oh, oh...But how curious, how curious _indeed_..."

Harry blinked. "Why is it curious?" He asked then winced, stepping back.

"Why, Mr. Potter, I remember every wand I've ever sold. Every single one! And it just so happens, the phoenix who gave the feather in your wand gave me a second one. Just one other. It's very curious that this wand chose you when the wand with the matching feather, why it's the same wand that gave you that scar." Ollivander said.

Harry looked down at the wand and gently rubbed his fingers over the handle.

"Thirteen and a half inches, yew." Ollivander continued. "Curious how these things happen, the wand chooses the wizards after all...I think we must expect great things from you Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Be-Named did great things- terrible, but great."

"Ollivander, I do not think it's correct to refer to You-Know-Who's actions as great." Professor McGonagall spoke up.

The man chuckled. "If he was not a great man, he would not have been able to do the terrible things." He wagged his finger. "Great is not good, Miss McGonagall."

Harry tapped the (his) wand on his leg and smiled.

* * *

 **NOTES: I'd like to say I'm surprised I got twelve reviews, like goddamn. I hadn't thought the beginning was very good! So I thought I'd go ahead and try my hand at a second chapter. So, here's this mess. Idk how to write, obviously, so I apologize for any mistakes or suckiness. Review and tell me what you like, don't like, utterly despise, and love.**


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